


Too Many Days

by dragonflybeach



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Language, On the Run, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), wintersparker angst challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 17:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15320535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonflybeach/pseuds/dragonflybeach
Summary: They've been on the run 543 days and they're coming apart.





	Too Many Days

**Author's Note:**

> Dr Kimble is the title character of the movie The Fugitive in which a guy who looks a lot like Colonel Phillips chases Harrison Ford who is chasing a one armed man. Sam thought it was funny.

“What do you want for dinner?”

Sam and Steve glanced at each other as they raised their heads, turning in synch to look at Wanda.

Her voice was beyond tired, and slightly hoarse.

She also wasn’t usually the one who reminded everyone to eat.

Sam had been their Unofficial Team Mom for 543 days on the run.

Looking at him right now though, Sam looked more exhausted than Wanda sounded.

Sam didn’t even answer aloud. He just shrugged and shook his head to indicate that he didn’t have a preference.

“It doesn’t matter to me.” Steve said. “You or Nat can pick.”

As if on cue, Nat climbed back in the window from where she had been sitting on the roof of the attached cafe.

“I don’t care.” She shrugged, and Steve realized in that moment how much weight she had lost over the past year and a half.

She had been thin to begin with. Now she looked almost brittle.

“How much cash do we have?” Sam asked.

“Enough for at least three meals and maybe some incidentals.” Steve said. “The room is paid for through tomorrow. I figured we could swing through Morrocco tomorrow and get some cash before we resettle somewhere else.”

The other three team members nodded, as the plan was nothing new.

“So, cafe downstairs, or walk down to the market?” Wanda asked.

“Market.” Sam said dully. “The place downstairs puts too much coriander in their rice.”

“That’s fine with me.” Nat shrugged again.

None of them seemed to have an opinion any more.

They were like the Howlies during the war, when they’d been on a three day mission that turned into a 37 day mission because the SSR kept finding them more things to do before they made it back to base.

Morita had put it best. “My ass is dragging so low it’s wiping out my bootprints.”

But this time Steve couldn’t cheer up his unit with a couple bottles of stolen German liquor and a late night discussion as to what they were all going to do when they finally made it back to camp. Or even better, what they were going to do when the war was over.

There was no camp to go back to and no hope that they ever may get to stop running.  

They tried to stay in countries that didn’t extradite to the US, although that might be for naught if UN troops came for them, and DSS guys didn’t always ask the local government before showing up to hunt fugitives.

So they spent a lot of time looking over their shoulders and not sleeping soundly. They never stayed anywhere longer than a week.

Eastern Europe wasn’t safe for either Wanda or Nat, and since none of them could quite blend in as locals in China or Viet Nam, they spent a lot of time in eastern Africa and the Middle East. Steve could fake a Cape Town accent well enough and no one questioned two women who mostly kept their heads covered, so Sam just had to make sure he didn’t do things to broadcast the fact he was American.

Fortunately they had access to Steve’s and Nat’s bank accounts, because Nat had warned Steve to move his money into offshore banks before the US government could seize his assets. However, they had to be cautious as to how much money they withdrew, where, and how often. Every access created an electronic trail, and the funds wouldn’t last forever.

Steve thanked a God he wasn’t completely sure he still believed in that the quinjet was powered by the prototype arc reactor-style power plant and they didn’t have to buy gas for it.

They had taken down a couple crime rings over the past year-and-how-many-months, and while Nat and Sam felt no guilt in confiscating whatever cash or supplies they could use, Steve hated to take money that had been “earned” by hurting other people.

“You coming?” Nat called from the open door.

“Yeah,” Steve shook his head to snap out of his thoughts.

His phone buzzed in his hand, and he swiped a thumb over the screen as he stood.

_Dr. Kimble:  skype?_

“Bucky?” Wanda asked.

“Yeah.” Steve said, his thumb hovering over “n”.

“Stay and talk to him.” Wanda told him. “We’ll bring you something back.”

Steve hesitated for a moment, but Sam gave him a slight nod.

“Ok,” Steve sighed. “I’m not picky. You know what I like. Something with chicken maybe.”

He handed Sam the cash in his front pocket.

He probably should remind them to be careful, keep their heads down, and make sure everyone had their phones, but he couldn’t quite seem to summon the energy.

Sam and the girls left, and Steve pressed the button on his phone to dial Bucky.

Buck was outside, sitting on a large rock near the lake, as the sky just started to change from blues to roses and purples.

“Happy Thanksgiving Eve, Turkey!” Buck greeted him with a grin.

Steve’s shoulders slumped. “It’s Thanksgiving? Shit.”

“Well, probably not wherever you are, but in the states it will be tomorrow.” Bucky told him.

“Shit.” Steve repeated. “Shit, shit, fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” Buck asked.

“I forgot it’s Thanksgiving.” Steve said. “And you called me a turkey.”

“Yeah, no.” Buck rolled his eyes. “What are you really upset about?”

“It’s fine.” Steve sighed.

“It’s not fine, you little punk, so you’d better tell me.” Buck gave Steve a look that made it clear he wasn’t going to let the matter drop.

Steve shook his head, leaning forward to rest his forehead against the heel of his hand for a moment.

“They’re coming undone, Buck.” He said softly. “It’s like the raid on Hydra Facility Six all over again. They’re exhausted. They’ve been looking over their shoulders for too long. Except this time, there’s no going home at the end of the war. Sam can’t ever see his family again. We’ve got him an untraceable phone so he can Skype with them sometimes, but he should be celebrating Thanksgiving with them. The only thing Wanda has to look forward to is when Vision is able to sneak out of the compound and come see her. Nat doesn’t even have that. This is going to be the rest of our lives, however long or short that is, and for what?” Steve’s voice cracked, and he pressed his hand to his mouth and took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “And for what? You’re still a fugitive. The Accords still got signed. Hell, there’s even still Nazis running around. They threw away their lives because I asked them to, and all of it was for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing, Steve.” Buck told him. “You made sure the Winter Soldier program was destroyed. Yeah, Zemo killed the others, but your team made sure that you and I could get there in case he was going to wake them up and use them. You and your team got me here, so that the Wakandans could deprogram me before I killed anyone else. The discussion on the Accords isn’t over. T’Challa never signed, and the UN Security Council knows about him. He’s had ongoing communications with them about revising the Accords. He wants you pardoned based on the fact that you were trying to prevent the other five Winter Soldiers from being leveraged. You’re still alive, Steve. As long as all of you are alive, there’s always hope things will get better.”

“I … I got nothing.” Steve shrugged. “I just … I’ve let them down so much.“

“Come here for a few days.” Buck offered. “You know T’Challa said you’re welcome any time.”

“Buck, you know I can’t.” Steve shook his head. “It’s not fair of me to leave them any more than I have to, and I can’t bring the whole team there in a stolen plane. If the UN found out, there would be an international incident.”

“Tony Stark knows I’m here.” Buck told him.

“What?” Steve lurched straight up, his breath leaving him.

“Apparently he’s known for months, or at least he thinks he does.” Buck shrugged. “T’Challa got an email from him about plans for a renewable power source that could run a small town. Stuck somewhere in the middle of the attachment was a set of schematics for a vibranium alloy prosthetic  _left_  arm.” He rolled his eyes. “T’Challa didn’t acknowledge it, but about once a month or so, there is some kind of hint from Stark. There hasn’t been an international incident yet, so it seems like he’s not telling anyone to come looking here.”

“Buck … “ Steve sank back down in his chair. “I need to get you out of there before they do come looking.”

“I’m not going.” Bucky shook his head. “Trust me, if the UN shows up, I can make myself scarce. They’ll be searching in town, not out in the goat pastures. It would be more dangerous to have me with you. That would be an extra person you’d have to worry about, and the one armed thing is not exactly inconspicuous.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Steve brushed his hair off his forehead nervously.

“No probably to it.” Buck snorted. “I’m right and you know it. Come here for a couple days. I know you won’t stay long, but bring the team here. Celebrate Thanksgiving with me. Seriously, T’Challa’s mother loves any excuse to throw a party. Let the team have a break. Give them a couple days that they don’t have to look over their shoulders before you get back to saving the world. It’ll do them a lot of good.”

Steve wiped his hand over his face. “Ask T’Challa if it’s all right. Like three days at the most. We just need a breather. I’m afraid one of us is going to do something stupid if we don’t regroup.”

“You’re still the most likely of that bunch to do something stupid.” Bucky grinned. “But yeah, I’ll ask. And I know he’ll say yes. He’s told me many times to make sure that you know the team is welcome.”

“ _Ask him_.” Steve insisted.

“Ok, bye.” Bucky ended the call, still grinning.

About three minutes later, Steve got a text.

_Dr. Kimble: TC said come here or he will come get you._

_Dr. Kimble: He said the UN won’t give any trouble because they want vibranium._

Steve texted back.  _OK. See you tomorrow._

He washed his face and combed his hair before the rest of the team got back. He was waiting downstairs for them.

“Everything okay?” Sam asked, looking around nervously.

“Yeah.” Steve nodded. “It’s gonna be okay.”

He took the stack of takeout containers from Sam’s hands and carried them upstairs.

“You look better.” Wanda said as she walked past him into the room.

Once everyone was in the room and the meals had been distributed, Nat asked. “Any ideas on where we’re going tomorrow?”

“Wakanda.” Steve said, smiling.

“Where are the rest of us going while you go to Wakanda?” Wanda asked.

“No, we’re all going to Wakanda.” Steve told them. “Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and I want to celebrate it with my family, which is you guys and Bucky. It’s been a tough year, but we’ve made it through. We’ve saved people. We’ve brought down a human trafficking ring, a drug cartel, and some terrorists. I did find out that there is talk going on about revising the Accords. One of these days, we may get to go home. But in the meantime, there is no other group of people I’d rather be on the run with than the three of you.”

Nat smiled at him.

Wanda might have tears in her eyes.

Sam rolled his eyes and said “Did you write that down? Don’t tell me that was just off the top of your head.”

Steve flicked a bean at him.

Sam caught it in his mouth and laughed.

Steve, Nat and Wanda all laughed too.

Maybe it really would all be okay.  


End file.
